Her Past, The Present, His Future
by dolphinsramazing
Summary: A story of Brennan's past in the foster system- what she thinks is the past. But what happens when a nightmarish part of her past is resurrected? Is it all bad? BB, of course. Changed the name- didn't like the Latin.
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, everyone this is the first fic that I've written that I might actually get somewhere.**

**I want to give a huge shout out to my friend Camille, who despite being a Bones aficionado like myself, does not frequent this site. She's been with me every step of the way, giving me plot ideas, helping with the grammar, and keeping the characters in character. This story is dedicated to her!**

**So, I have about ten chapters written, and I'll post one every day- for now. Enjoy the quick updates while they last. And of course, any feedback, suggestions, comments, feel free to tell me!**

**Disclaimer- I wish I owned these fabulous characters- I just like to play with them, though. **

**~Dolphinsramazing~**

**So here it is…**

Suus Preteritus, Tendo, Suum Posterus

(Her Past, The Present, Their Future)

Seeley Joseph Booth skipped the last step as he approached her apartment, slightly out of breath from climbing the fifteen flights of stairs to get there. To see her, Temperance Brennan. His partner and so much more. Climbing the stairs in and of itself was out of the ordinary for him; despite her protests of the need for energy conservation, he always rode the elevator. But today, it was out of service. What wasn't a shocking occurrence was him appearing at her door at ungodly hours of the night without an invitation. Right now, it was 9:00 P.M., which was quite reasonable by his standards. He knocked on her door, plastered a smile on his face and waited.

When she came to the door, quite quickly, she had a smile on her face as well, knowing there was only one person who could be on the other side of the door at this time of night. Her suspicions were confirmed and she opened the door and invited him in.

She began to tidy up her already immaculate apartment, aside from the anthropological and forensic magazines strewn across the coffee table, and he opened all the boxes of Thai he had purchased and they sat down to eat.

As usual, easy conversation and pointless banter flowed effortlessly between them. It was not surprising- they were partners, friends, and near-constant companions. It was this wide spectrum of knowledge about the other that made it so effortless for one to sense something erroneous about their partner.

Booth could tell that something was off about his partner. Though she was the mistress of hiding weakness and vulnerability, the few times she had broken down had enlightened him to the indicators. A sag of the shoulders when she thought he wasn't looking, a gleam of tears quickly blinked away. He knew his partner, all right, and right now, his gut was telling him something was very wrong.

What led him to believe this the most were her eyes. Though her face could be stoic and devoid of emotion entirely, her eyes were able to be read like an open book. There was purity and innocence still present there that her heart and mind had lost a long time ago. He knew very little about her time in the foster care system, but with her unwillingness to talk about it, he inferred that it was a living hell. He also figured out that that it must be what is bothering her now, because as far as he knew, there was nothing going on in her life right now that could be adversely affecting her.

"Bones, what's the matter?" he questioned, his voice full of care and tenderness.

"Nothing. I'm perfectly fine!" she immediately snapped back at him, but the look of guilt on her face betrayed her fruitless attempt to hide her distress.

"Hey, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to, but I'm always here to listen," he said reassuringly and sweetly.

She turned her head away, resting her electric blue gaze on the wall across from her. He released an exasperated sigh at her constant tendency to shut him out when he got too close. He was surprised when he looked up and met his gaze with hers. She began to speak, to tell her story.

"As you know, my parents walked out right before Christmas when I was 15. You saw the bitterness I retained toward them until a few years ago. You can't imagine the intensity of it that first year. Then, Russ walked out only a few weeks later. The last thing an insecure fifteen year old girl needs is to be abandoned by her family for no reason at all. It just heightens her feelings of hurt and anguish that lay just beyond the surface. I was given a single trash bag, not even a new one, and a used one, with a huge slit in the side. Meticulous as I was, I taped the rip with precision, and loaded my favorite clothes and toiletries in the bag. My first social worker was barely older than me, always with a huge wad of gum, platinum blonde hair, and no compassion for the children she represented.

I was put in a group home for the first three days, and had to share a bunk with three other girls- two were my age, and both had been in the system for over 10 years. What scared me more than the lack of food or space was the hardened look in their eyes, like they had seen all the evils in the world, and no longer had any fears. Their hair was knotted and unbrushed; clothes tattered and worn. And next to them was me, with my perfectly curled hair and pristine jeans. I spent those first two nights crying myself to sleep.

The fourth day, I was brought to my first home. They seemed amicable and nice enough at first, but first impressions can lie. The second my social worker stepped out of the house, I felt the first slap across my cheek. Stunned, I began to cry. After being slapped repeatedly, I realized it was better to not have a reaction- it would lessen the number of blows."

A hitch appeared in her breath as she began to cry. He wrapped his long, strong arms around her and the sobs began to quiet. She wiped her swollen eyes and continued with her story.

"This is the hardest part for me to tell. Just so you know, you're the first person who has ever heard this story- at least from the source. If you want to have an idea of what happened, I suggest you go turn on my iPod, and find the song 'Concrete Angel'. Take out the terminal consequences, and it's pretty much a summary of my first six months in the foster system."

He followed her suggestion and located her skull-adorned iPod touch. He laughed at the decorations, but the smile quickly dissipated as he began to listen to the song she had referred to.

_She walks to school with the lunch she packed_

_Nobody knows what she's holding back_

_Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday_

_She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh_

_The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask_

_It's hard to see the pain behind the mask_

_Bearing the burden of a secret storm_

_Sometimes she wishes she was never born_

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_

_Where she's loved concrete angel_

_Somebody cries in the middle of the night_

_The neighbors hear but they turn out the light_

_A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate_

_When morning comes it will be too late_

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_

_Where she's loved concrete angel_

_A statue stands in a shaded place_

_An angel girl with an upturned face_

_A name is written on a polished rock_

_A broken heart that the world forgot_

_Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone_

_In a world that she can't rise above_

_But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place_

_Where she's loved concrete angel_

The supposedly iron-willed Booth was crying uncontrollably at the close of the song. It was her turn to provide comfort, and so she did so. Once he regained the ability to speak coherently, he turned to her, bewildered.

"You mean...it was that bad?" he asked, fear recognizable in his voice.

She simply nodded, the residual effects of the trauma still affecting her, and continued her retelling of the story.


	2. Broken but not Beaten

**Hi to everyone! Here's my chapter for today- hope you like it! I also want to thank my reviewers: xBonesnCsiMiamifan419X, Squintwannabe, and Mistress Darkness. Also, a shoutout to all of those who put me on their favorite story or story alert- I thank you!**

**~Dolphinsramazing~**

"I tried to spend as much time as possible at school, spending the most possible amount of hours there. It was my safe haven, my sanctuary. I used to study in the library until closing, basically throwing myself headfirst into my studies. I had always been a bright student, loving knowledge, but my pursuit now became a near obsession. It was during this period that I stumbled upon forensic anthropology as a career choice and subsequently stopped looking for an alternative career. My few friends, well really one friend, and teachers were puzzled about the fact that even though it was nearly eighty degrees out, I always wore jeans and long-sleeved t-shirts. The only thing that sustained me through the long days and short nights, which usually consisted of me trying to cover the bruises and staunch the bleeding, was my best friend, Faith. The interesting thing about her is that she's Angela's older sister."

"So you've known Angela since you were fifteen?" he inquired.

"Well, not exactly. Faith lived with their mother, Angela lived with her father. She was always much closer to him. But I did meet Angela when she came for a visit. We hit it off right away, other than the fact that she was 4 years younger than me, but Faith was my age, in fact we were both born on the same day."

"When's your birthday?" Booth interrupted.

"March 29," she said matter-of-factly. To most anyone, this would have been an insignificant tidbit to share, but not to her. In fact, she had not revealed her birthday to anyone since high school, because the timing of her abandonment made her hate all celebrations, especially those in which she was the main focus.

"Anyway, Faith found out what was happening to me and tried to contact the foster system. She even got a hold of my social worker. When Jackson, I mean Montenegro, women want something, they get their way."

"Jackson? Don't think I didn't hear that slip of the tongue, Bones," he taunted.

"Angela's real name is Summer Jackson. She changed it at the age of 18, because it came to her in a dream." Brennan said with resignation.

"Wow…Summer…Summer. That really just doesn't fit her, well it does," Booth rambled.

"Okay, I'm going to continue now," she said loudly and clearly, as if speaking to a child. He stopped talking and sat up, ready to listen.

"I've tried so hard to block those days from my mind, so all I can really remember is a blur of pain and blood. What I do remember is my last day in that house.

_Temperance walked into the house at around 9:00 that night. She tried to make the least amount of sound upon her entrance as possible. Maybe she could avoid a beating if Derrick was already passed out on the couch. She crossed her fingers, but luck was not on her side tonight. Her torn black Converse pounded on the creaky floorboard and this alerted the entire house to her presence. Immediately following this, Derrick entered the room, barely able to stand up, swaying violently from side to side, a bottle of vodka ¾ of the way finished in his grubby hand. He tossed the bottle casually on the floor and turned his attention to the shaking teenager in front of him._

_ He raised his hand, and in a well practiced motion slapped her with a tremendous amount of force across the face. She shied away in an unconscious reaction and he grabbed her arms with an iron grip. She knew she would have hand-shaped bruises there tomorrow. _

_ Normally, he just slapped her a few more times and then left her bleeding and broken on the floor, muttering insults about 'foster children and little girls'. Her foster mother, Anna, would come up and carry to her room, preventing further injury when he was even drunker, but that was the only extent of her "kindness". _

_ But this time, he just kept hitting. She felt her blood pooling around her. She felt bones breaking. She felt bruises forming. Yet she stood still, like a statue, completely unmoving other than the blink of her eyes at each blow. After the blows became so fast and frequent, she lost the ability even to wince. What was worse was the feeling, or lack thereof. She couldn't feel anything. Her body was entirely numb; not even the smack of his fist registered any more. She couldn't have moved an inch even if she had wanted to. The last thing she remembered was being paralyzed and numb. Then even her vision went black._

"The next thing I can wrack my memory for is waking up to a bright hospital room, hooked up to beeping machines, both my legs and arms bound in gauze, looking like a human mummy. I found out later that Faith had told the authorities about my abuse, and they had rescued me just in time. My injuries were extensive, ranging from 6 green stick fractures to a fracture to each radius, ulna, femur, and tibia. There were also fractures to my distal, proximal, and intermediate phalanges and my scapula. In addition, there were an innumerable amount of bruises and cuts. I had nearly bled out on the way to the hospital, and I needed quite a few platelet infusions."

Booth was entirely speechless at this calm recitation of her widespread injuries. Even with his limited knowledge of anatomy, he could still gauge the severity of her wounds, and wondered how she had survived such a brutal beating. Well, he knew how. Temperance Brennan was a fighter, even at the tender age of 15. Some things never change.

"That was hardly the worst part of the ordeal. When they came to save me, Derrick was arrested, and I was forced into being a material witness in his trial. They charged him with negligent endangerment of a child. I mean, the maximum sentence for that is 20 years. He could have killed me, Booth. I've been almost killed many times. But that's the only time that I had absolutely no control over my destiny. Immediately after the incident, I began training in any type of martial arts I could. I've always been able to defend myself after that. So, the trial.

_'Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?' Judge Harley asked._

_ 'I do," said Temperance Brennan solemnly. _

_ The prosecutor approached the witness stand first. John McCauley was an elderly prosecutor who had been in practice for over 20 years, but he had only spent a few months in this particular office. He had certainly expressed the fact that he was skeptical about putting this seemingly unstable victim on the stand, but he had no choice, for withholding her testimony would make it seem like he was concealing something Also, there were no other material witnesses other than the cops, who had predominately seen only the scene, and not the actual trauma.. John had read the file that outlined her injuries, illustrating them in disturbingly accurate detail. He had since possessed a fervent desire to put this bastard behind bars for as long as humanly possible. Frankly, he couldn't begin to fathom how she had survived the ordeal relatively unscathed. _

_ He asked his first question, "So, Ms. Brennan, on the night of May 25, you arrived at the Kare home at approximately what time?"_

_ Her thin voice shook as she responded "Around 9:00 P.M."_

_ "And when you arrived home, who was waiting for you? Was it the defendant, Mr. Kare?" he questioned. _

_ "Well, he wasn't exactly waiting for me. He was in the living room, drinking a bottle of vodka. When he heard me come in, he came into the kitchen where I was." She said informatively._

_ "And you can identify this perpetrator as Mr. Derrick Kare?" Mr. McCauley asked. _

_ "Yes," Temperance said definitively. _

_ "And following his entrance into the room, he began hitting you?" Now the prosecutor was entering the murky territory where her memory began to lapse. _

_ "Yes, repeatedly, and the beatings themselves were a near-daily occurrence," she revealed. _

_ "You little bitch! No one wants you! Don't you get that's why you're in foster care?" Derrick screamed from his spot next to his lawyer._

_ "Objection, your honor!" McCauley said indignantly._

_ "Mr. Kare, please refrain from outbursts, or I will have to remove you from the courtroom!" Judge Harley said._

_ "Yes, Your Honor," Derrick drawled sarcastically, mocking the judge's esteemed title._

_ "And what is the next thing you remember, Ms. Brennan?" the prosecutor inquired._

_ "Waking up at Children's Memorial Hospital in Chicago, with a myriad of injuries," she said, the fear instilled in her again after her attacker's derogatory comments. _

_ "These injuries included green stick, wrist, leg, and hand fractures, am I right?" he asked rhetorically, leading into his main line of questioning._

_ "Yes, and a few more," Temperance said. _

_ Addressing the jury now, John McCauley now said "People's exhibits 4, 5, 6, and 7. These are photos of Ms. Brennan taken upon her admission." He distributed them among the diverse jury pool with instructions to pass them around to the others. _

_ Looks of horror appeared on the juries' faces as they saw the extent of the damage inflicted by Mr. Kare. Nearly every inch of her ivory skin was covered with bruises and/or caked with blood. The most terrifying thing to the jury was the haunted look on her face and the fact that she looked barely alive, though by this point she was fully conscious._

_ "The prosecution rests, your honor," McCauley stated, a smug smile on his face as he gained the edge in the deliberations. _

_ The defense lawyer was a legal aid lawyer appointed by the court. She was a young, blonde, attractive woman by the name of Patricia Lehrer. Her long-term goal was to fill the shoes of the lawyer she was opposing today, and so she wanted to make a good impression. She was impeccably dressed and groomed, compared to her client, whose standard prison issue orange jumpsuit was stained and ripped, and though he had been given a chance to "freshen up", he had declined it and sat looking like a bum off the streets. _

_ Patricia knew that she was supposed to be impartial as to her client's innocent or guilt, but after seeing the damage he had done, her objectivity was quite compromised. Whose wouldn't be? Nonetheless, she felt guilty, and so she made an extra effort to represent the client to the best of her ability. _

_ She approached the stand where Ms. Brennan was sitting quietly, her pretty face completely devoid of emotion, her aquamarine eyes staring blankly. It hurt her so much to have to rip this already broken girl to pieces. She could see the scars, both physical and emotional. _

_ "These injuries you sustained, how do we know that they were inflicted by the defendant, not self-inflicted or by another perpetrator?" the blonde cut right to the chase._

_ "I have no definitive proof, but I am taking forensic anthropology classes. Forensic anthropology is, in my case, using a vast knowledge of the human skeleton to identify wounds and/or remains that are severely desiccated. If I was provided with the proper equipment, I could actually prove to you that Mr. Kare landed these blows, based on his stature and fist size," Temperance said, all present noting her excitement when it came to talking about her proficiency in her chosen profession. _

_ "So, Ms. Brennan, if you are so intelligent, how come you didn't report your "repeated abuse" to the authorities?" Patricia asked._

_ "I was…afraid. I first tried to tell my social worker, but she thought I was just a liar. After that I lost hope that anyone would believe my story." Tempe said dejectedly. _

_ "So, if you were so unwilling to tell "your story", how are we sitting here today?" Ms. Lehrer inquired._

_ "My friend, Faith, found out and called the authorities," she answered, embarrassed._

_ "Ms. Brennan, what is the last thing you remember?" Lehrer posed the difficult question._

_ "The last thing I recall is losing all feeling during the course of my beating, and then I presume I blacked out" Tempe said confidently._

_ "And when the authorities arrived, you were lying prone on the floor __**alone**__, am I right?" she continued her line of questioning._

_ "That's what I've been told," Temperance tried to sustain the same confident air about her, but she could feel her resolve crumbling. _

_ "So all we have to believe is your word. The word of an unbalanced, attention-seeking foster care charge. Why should a man's fate rest upon your testimony?" Patricia probed. The entire courtroom, including McCauley, was far too shocked to form a coherent response._

_ "Because I am telling the truth! Why don't you believe me? What did I do to lose everyone's trust?" Tempe said a combination of anger and vulnerability in her voice. _

_ McCauley finally regained his cool and voiced his objection. "Relevance, speculation, argumentative! This outburst breaks every rule in the book!"_

_ Patricia's plan had been to discredit the main witness in the case against her client by provoking her. The effect her questioning had was predisposing the jury to her client's guilt. She decided to cease her arguments so she couldn't make any more mistakes. _


	3. The Little Sister She Never Had

**I'm very sorry for not posting for quite a while. As a reward, I'm posting 3 chapters today. For those of you who are bored with this background, action is coming up soon! By the way, if there are any time and/or point of view errors, I apologize- I changed both of those. **

**~Dolphinsramazing~**

"The trial seemed to drag on forever, with an endless amount of expert witnesses whose only purpose seemed to be to contradict the previous. Even at 15, I could have done a better job presenting the forensic evidence then they did."

"Always so humble, Bones." Booth said with a smile.

"It's not vanity when it's true. So I had to attend every day of the trial, and sit and watch as I was turned into an object, just something acted upon, not a living, breathing girl with actual feelings. I was considered a ward of the court, and Child Protective Services kept me in what they called a "safe house" because they feared my life was in danger. Two weeks into the trial, his lawyer decided that he was going to be convicted, and wanted a plea bargain. I was forced to attend the negotiations, because my consent had to be given before they could make a deal."

_My client and I have discussed it, and he is willing to take any deal under the maximum sentence." Patricia began the proceedings._

"_That would be about 20 years, so the best I can offer you is 10. And that is only possible with the victim's consent." McCauley said._

_"We'll take it," Lehrer said after consulting with her client for a few moments._

_Also present in the room was a youth advocate for Ms. Brennan, a tall, intimidating looking man, who performed only the required when it came to his job. He spoke in a booming voice, saying "Temperance, you should approve this deal. He still has to serve time for what he did to you." He attempted to grab her hand in a failed gesture of reassurance, but she jumped away, shrieking "Don't touch me!" She got up abruptly from her chair, relocating to the corner of the room, subsequently retreating, sobbing, to the fetal position. _

_After the torrent of tears finally ceased, she lifted her head up, the trails still visible on her prominent cheekbones. _

_"Why will you not give consent, Ms. Brennan?" Ms. Lehrer asked. Before she could respond, John interjected with "Your client is implicated in the negligence and abuse of a fifteen-year old minor in the foster system. It is necessary to ensure that he cannot repeat these actions."_

_"I can assure you he will not." Ms. Lehrer stated simply._

_"You want to know why I won't consent?" Temperance screamed. "Because he enjoyed beating me! He enjoyed hearing me beg for mercy! He enjoyed every minute of it!"_

_As if to concur with her statement, a sinister smile crept across Derrick's face. This proved to everyone in the room that his "regret" was just a façade so he could avoid the full extent of his sentence. _

_"I'm sorry, Ms. Lehrer, I am taking the deal off of the table. Your client is displaying no remorse for his actions, and therefore deserves to be punished to the fullest extent of the law. This meeting is over." Mr. McCauley said with an air of finality. _

_Lehrer and Kare departed the room, but as Temperance got up to follow suit McCauley gestured to sit back down. _

_"Ms. Brennan, I have observed your actions closely throughout the trial, and I am demanding you see a psychologist. You seem to be imbalanced and your erratic behavior makes you a danger to those around you. Your first appointment will be tomorrow at 8:30 A.M., and we will provide an escort." John said._

_"I'm fine," Temperance stubbornly insisted. _

_"You are most certainly not fine and there is no getting out of this, Ms. Brennan. We will pick you up at 8:00 tomorrow." He said decisively. _

_He strode quickly out of the room, leaving no room for further argument and/or discussion. Temperance then turned to her advocate, who had remained silent since his first statement in the deliberations, saying sarcastically "You were sure a lot of help", and then stalked out of the room angrily. _

"I attended compulsory psychiatric sessions for nearly six months. I was diagnosed with a mild form of PTSD, and given medication to keep it under control. I had read the possible side effects for each of the allotted meds, and decided it wasn't worth the risk, so I faked taking them for months. The doctor was frustrated with my lack of improvement, but never once thought it was because I was not following his directions.

_Mike Lawrence was an old man, a fat old man at that. He was a longtime veteran of this office, a practicing psychiatrist for over 40 years. He had an exceptional track record, and patients passed through his capable hands very quickly. However, Mike had attained an all-time level of frustration with this patient, a Temperance Brennan. She was in the foster care system, and had been viciously abused for the majority of her time in it. The largest detriment to helping her was her inability to open up. Her only communication throughout the entire session was curt, one-word responses at his insistent inquiries. Today was no different._

"_Temperance, what would you like to talk about?" Mike asked. He was met with complete silence. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he scribbled something illegible on the notepad in his wide lap. _

"_How is school going?" he tried again with another futile attempt at conversation. The teenager simply bit her nails absentmindedly, her blue eyes staring blankly at the wall. _

_He tried a different, less amicable approach. "Temperance, if you don't answer my questions, I'm going to have to have you admitted to a psychiatric ward."_

"_I'm not insane!" she said huffily, her voice somewhat hoarse from lack of use. _

_His shoulders dropped in a release of tension- this had been the first time she had ever spoken more than a single syllable in their five sessions. "I'm not saying you are, but you obviously have underlying issues that you are unwilling to confront. That's what you have to do in order to heal."_

_She reassumed the resistant position of arms crossed across her chest, but Mike decided to keep prodding. "I can't end our sessions until I'm confident you are at least trying to heal."_

"_I'm never going to heal! Do you think I'll ever forget about this? I'm going to carry this burden with me the rest of my life. What I need to do is accept that fact, and I already have. So I'd like to leave, thank you very much!" Temperance screamed, and as she finished her rant, she got up from the cushioned chair and left the room abruptly. The corpulent psychiatrist tried to chase after her, but his efforts were for naught. He sat down in his cushioned chair, the burden he carried only slightly alleviated. Despite his aptitude for his job, he was completely at a loss when it came to treating Temperance. It was time for her to be assigned a new expert, one perhaps closer to her own age and female. _

I had been treated by over 15 professionals by the time that they gave up on me and my outbursts, and was bounced around from home to home while I was at it. During this time period was when the episode of being locked in a trunk for two days occurred. The best home by far was with a young single mother and daughter, the Lorckers. She had a biological daughter with a husband who abandoned them, a little girl of four years old, named Katarina, but most people called her Katie. They instilled the values of family and love in me again, and that little girl was my pride and joy. It was only time I had ever been a role model to anyone. She wanted to be "just like me" when she grew up.

"_Tempe, you're home!" Katarina squeaked, jumping up and down on the mattress excitedly. _

"_Yes I am, sweet pea," Tempe said, laughing at the smile that came upon the young girl's face at her nickname. _

"_So, what did you do in school?" Katarina asked, sitting down cross-legged on the bed, an eager look in her green eyes. _

"_Nothing interesting, really," Temperance said._

"_C'mon, I'm so bored sitting at home with Mama all day. And everything is sooo boring to you cuz you're sooo smart._" _Katarina said with a look of admiration in her eyes as she gazed at her hero._

"_Well, I take a lot of science classes," Tempe said, resigning herself to explaining the entirety of her day to the enthusiastic girl._

"_They're really hard science classes, right? Like with the big kids!" Katie said excitedly. _

"_Yes, Katie, I take graduate level forensic courses. They are usually taken by twenty year olds." Temperance explained._

_"Therefore, I can infer that you are the youngest person in your class," Katarina said, very proud of her reasoning skills at such an early age. Temperance smiled at the girl that seemed to be following in her own advanced footsteps. _

_"Very good, Katarina. I…" Temperance began a new sentence when her speech was interrupted by the shattering of a glass window. Katie let out a high-pitched, blood curdling scream, and she began to cry. Tempe was just as scared as the little girl, but she knew that she had to at least feign strength to lessen Katie's fear. She grabbed the small girl's shaking frame and pulled her to her chest, reassuringly stroking her raven curls. Slowly, Katarina's sobs quieted and her chest rose and fell in a steady motion. _

_Downstairs, Tempe could hear the clanking of pots and pans and the infuriated voices echoed through the hallways, making the words loud and clear to her. _

_"Where is she? That little witch needs to pay for what she did! She ruined my husband's life, and consequently my own. Tell me where she is now. I will kill anyone in my way without a second thought!" The threats of a deranged, psychotic woman instilled copious amounts of fear in Temperance. She made sure to cover Katie's ears so that the child's naivety wouldn't be corrupted by this horrible woman. Tempe inched her and Katarina into the corner of the room, the bed shielding their presence from the untrained eye. _

_Temperance buried her head in her hands and began to shed silent tears. No matter how far away she got, no matter how hard she tried to forget them, she could never escape the Kares. Derrick was locked up for an extremely long time, but she had never foreseen the fact that Anna might want to get her revenge. Now she had involved the Lorckers in her problems. _

_"You're never going to get to her!" Mrs. Julia Lorcker stated defiantly. In spite of the dreadful circumstances, Tempe grinned at her foster mother's statement. No one had protected her since she was at home with her own family. Her tears began to relapse as she thought about what seemed like a former life, a distant memory in her troubled past. _

_"Don't try to defend her! She deserved everything she got!! Now, if you get out of my way, you won't get hurt." Anna's shrill tones lowered to a threatening hiss as she finished speaking. _

_"You think I'm going to just step out of the way. You underestimate me!" Julia retorted. The next thing Tempe heard was the shattering of a lamp on the floor, and a shriek from Julia. She knew now that the fight was over and she had to surrender in order to ensure that the people had treated her so well survived this ordeal. She whispered in Katarina's ear. "Katie, I have to go out there. It's the only way she will stop. Now, I want you to lock yourself in here and only come out if your mom or I tell you to. Can you do that Katie?" The frightened child nodded, and Tempe gave her a kiss on the top of her head, and exited the room._

_Petrified, Temperance shut the door quietly behind her as she stepped out into the hallway. Anna was standing there, a horrible smile on her face. _

"_I knew you would come out. You can't stand watching people get hurt." Anna said creepily. _

_Tempe began quivering as the woman stared, unblinking, at her. The hatred was discernible in each woman's eyes. Anna began to speak. "You ruined my life, Temperance. You stole my husband away from me. You stole my home away from me. You made it impossible for me to get another foster child. I have __nothing__ because of you. And for that, you will pay." She said quietly and slowly._

"_You can do whatever you want with me. Just don't hurt Katie and Julia, please." Temperance begged, still paralyzed with fear. _

"_Suddenly a martyr now, Temperance. While I'm afraid it's too late for Julia, I will leave "Katie" alone, because now I have what I want. You." A smile appeared on the disturbed woman's face as she taunted her captive in all ways but physical. _

_This statement, somehow, reincarnated Temperance's sense of rationality. What this woman didn't know was that she was trained in martial arts, and could take her down with a single well-placed blow. Debating over what move would be the most painful and effective, she swung her leg around in a roundhouse kick, knocking the unsuspecting woman to the ground. As Anna lay face down on the floor, Tempe placed her foot on the woman's neck, and she was now in control of the situation. _

_She had never been a sadist, but she had to admit she found enjoyment in Anna's pleas for mercy. His woman certainly deserved a taste of her own medicine after what she did to Julia. Julia! She had completely forgotten about the kind woman in her haste to incapacitate her attacker. Taking Anna's own shoelace and using it to tie her to the radiator, she gave a warning of the consequences she would face if she tried to flee, and went to give her aid to Julia._

_She sprinted down the stairs at top speed, and went immediately to the woman's side. Julia had a large gash on her occipital lobe, and was bleeding profusely. Temperance tried desperately to find a pulse, and relief washed over her when she found one, albeit weak. As she let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, the sound of sirens rang outside. _

_Though she was glad to accept help in any form, she was puzzled as to how the authorities had been alerted to the danger. As if to answer her question, Katie came down the stairs, skipping happily. _

"_Aren't you proud of me, Tempe? Even though I stayed in the room just like you told me to, I found your cell phone and called 911 like Mommy said I should do if somebody's in trouble. I know they didn't think that I was serious when I first called, but when I told them the whole story, they believed me and told me they were coming. And as I was walking down, that scary woman wouldn't shut up so I hit her on the head." Katarina said proudly. _

"_You did a very good job, sweet pea. Now let's go upstairs and let the professionals do their job." Temperance said reassuringly. She put an arm around Katie and began walking up the stairs, doing her best to prevent the little girl from resting her gaze on her barely alive mother. Unfortunately, her efforts were futile as Katarina looked back and saw the bloodied woman. She yelped and buried her head in Tempe's chest, crying. As if on cue, the paramedics entered the building at that time. Temperance stepped forward to explain the situation._

"_The woman lying here is Julia Lorcker, my foster mother and the biological mother of Katarina here. She has blunt force trauma to her occipital lobe, inflicted by this lamp," she said, gesturing to the fragments strewn across the floor. "_

"_She has a pulse, but she's not breathing, so I suggest you hurry." The professionals heeded her suggestion as they sent the woman out of the room on a gurney. After this, a local cop walked in and began asking her more questions during their journey to the hospital. Once they arrived, Tempe decided that this was a good time to mention the perpetrator of the attacks that was lying on the top floor of the house they had just left. An incredulous look appeared on the LEO's face as she revealed this piece of information. He gestured to his partner, who seemed to be at least 15 years younger than him, and the young man left the waiting room, presumably to go rescue the woman. Tempe held Katie on her lap as she retold the tale, and every time she thought she could tell no more of the story, Katie gave her the strength she needed to go on. How ironic that the child whose mother's life was hanging in the balance was the calm one in this situation. _

"The surgery itself went quite well, but like you, Julia had a bad reaction to the anesthetic they used, and so she remained in a coma for a week until she woke up. I had to watch Katarina for that time, and that little girl was traumatized to see her mother in such a vulnerable state. How do you explain to a four year old that her mother might not wake up? To make it worse, when Julia woke up, she couldn't remember anything. Not like you, you were just confused. She had no idea who she was, who Katie was, anything. I swore that little girl's heart broke when she saw that her mommy couldn't remember her. She cried for hours.

The doctors said that there was a slim to no chance of her regaining her memory, and so she was placed in a psych ward, and Katarina, with no other family to take care of her, was put in the foster system.

"_Tempe, when's Mama gonna come home?" Katie inquired innocently._

"_Katie, remember when I told you that Mommy might not be okay?" Temperance said, trying to find the easiest way to break the horrible news to this sweet child._

"_Yeah," Katarina responded suspiciously, her eyebrows lowered in an expression that made her seem far older than her years._

_Temperance got down on her knee as to make herself at the same level as Katie. She then began to utter the words that would change the little girl's life forever._

"_Katie, Mommy's not coming home. Something happened, and now she can't remember anything. She can't take care of you anymore. She can't even take care of herself," Tempe said as tenderly as possible. _

"_Why can't the doctors just fix it? Isn't that why they go to school, so they can get smart and fix things?" Katarina asked simply. Temperance sighed at the little girl's expected naivety. She wished things were that easy. If life was that simple, she would still be home with her real family right now. _

_Tempe was snapped out of her reverie by another insistent question from the inquisitive child._

"_Tempe, what's gonna happen to me? We're going to stay together, right? You're like the big sister I never had, Tempe." Katie questioned frantically. _

"_I can't promise anything, sweet pea. I __can__ promise you I will try my hardest to make sure that happens." Temperance confirmed. _

"_So am I ever gonna see Mama again?" Katarina asked desperately._

"_I don't know, honey." Tempe said honestly. _

_The realization that she would likely never see her mother again finally dawned on Katarina, and she began sobbing uncontrollably. Temperance tried to comfort her, but she had no way to calm this girl's anxiety or cease her anguish. She still hadn't gotten over her abandonment, and she was far older and wiser. _

_Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the social worker that would take Katie. She gave the still crying girl one last hug, and walked out of sight._


	4. Rescued, then Back to Reality

I never saw Katie again after that. That was also the last attempt I made at forming a bond with anyone in the system. It taught me that in an instant anything could be taken from you.

To keep myself sane, I buried myself even deeper into forensic anthropology, finding solace in the irrefutable logic and rationality which defined the field. I began to completely close myself off from the world, and probably never would have survived if not for being rescued out of the system.

_Temperance was back in a group home after the family she was staying with decided they wanted a child of their own. She was sitting on the hard mattress, her aquamarine eyes concentrating fully on the book in her hands. She rubbed her eyes unconsciously- she had been reading for the past six hours, and she was getting quite tired. Stifling a yawn, she looked at the dilapidated watch on her wrist, which read 1:37 A.M. The dirty windows allowed for no light or absence thereof to penetrate it, so she hadn't seen the sun come down and the moon rise. She lost track of time when she was reading. She shut the dim lamp off, and rested her head on the hard pillow, hoping that the emptiness of sleep would overtake her. She was just drifting off when she heard a loud voice. _

"_Dammit, are you people stupid? That's my granddaughter, Temperance Brennan. My name is Jack Walters; I'm her mother's father. Obviously you people don't give a crap about what happens to her, but I do. Where is she? Tempe?" the man said._

_Bafflement came upon the now coherent Temperance. Her mother had told her that her grandparents were dead, and her father had no family whatsoever. So who was this strange man claiming to be her grandfather? She racked her tired brain, but came up with no answer._

"_There you are, Tempe. I'm taking you out of here," the unnamed man said, grabbing her hand as he said so. He saw her bewilderment and whispered in her ear "I know you don't know who I am, but you have to trust me. I'm a friend of your parents. You have to trust me, Tempe." Even though her ordeals had nearly eradicated her faith in people, something told her that this man's words were true. Jack was someone she could depend on. _

_Still wary, however, she got up from her bunk and grabbed the ripped garbage bag underneath it. He was appalled at the condition of her only possessions, and protectively draped an arm around her as they walked out._

_Once they stepped out into the brisk night air, Temperance gazed inquisitively at Jack, the look in her eyes demanding an explanation. _

"_Obviously you know I'm not your grandfather, Tempe. But I am a friend of your parents'. They had told Russ to contact me in an emergency. A few weeks ago, he got a hold of me and told me you were in the foster system. I found where he called from, but once I got there, the people he worked with told me that he had flown the coop right after he had called me. None of them knew where he had gone from there. After I realized I had not a chance of finding him, I immediately drove from Oregon to come and get you. I know you're probably scared, and I'm sure you don't believe me, but trust is all that matters here. Trust me. Let me take you home, and then we can figure things out." Jack said supportively. Her blue eyes widened, and she nodded, following him to his beat up car._

"I lived with Jack in Oregon for about 2 ½ years. He became my grandfather in all ways except biological. He took care of me, teaching me that everyone needed someone. I took care of him, dealing with all problems relating to his health, as his weight provided for some minor health concerns, mainly the fact that he was hypertensive and had atrial fibrillation, or a-fib, and had to take medication to keep both conditions under control. I still had problems making friends of my own age: they just didn't understand me. Too quickly, I turned 18 and it was time to go to university. Just as I was heading off to college, something terrible happened.

"_Jack, I'll see you in a few months when I come home for Thanksgiving." Tempe said._

"_I know, sweetheart, but I'm really gonna miss you." Jack said softly, embarrassed at his rare revelation of his feelings._

"_I'm going to miss you, too. You've been so good to me these past 2 years," Temperance responded in kind, a single tear dripping down her cheek._

"_Aw, Tempe, honey, don't cry. A girl like you deserves to be treated good. Make sure you don't forget that." Jack offered her as advice._

"_I won't, Jack. I promise. I'll see you soon. I love you." Temperance said, her eyes glistening with tears as she voiced the words that were so hard for her to say. In fact, this was the first time she had ever said them to Jack. _

"_I love you too, Tempe. I…" He returned the sentiment and then cut off his next sentence abruptly, clutching his chest._

_Temperance saw the wide-eyed look on the man's face and his grasping at his chest and put them together. He was going into cardiac arrest. _

_As to concur with her conclusion, he fell to the floor at that very instant, his face turning as white as a sheet. Tempe snapped right into action and began to perform CPR in an effort to make the blood circulate through his body once again. Tears ran in a torrent down her face as she began to push harder and harder, even slapping his stone chest in frustration. Her irrational side made her keep trying, but she knew that Jack was gone from this world. After another half hour of fruitless attempts, she rose from the ground and lifted her hands off the frigid corpse. _

_Not bothering to dry the trails of tears on her cheeks, she pulled out her cell phone and called 911, knowing that there was no more she or anyone could do for him. Within minutes, the ambulance arrived, and she was forced to ride in the ambulance, for reasons she couldn't understand. He was dead. An autopsy could tell how he died. There was no need for her input on the matter. She just wanted to be left alone to mourn her loss. _

"Jack's official COD was cited as Sudden Arrhythmia Death Syndrome, or SADS. He had left everything he owned to me, as he had no other family. I used the meager funds to support myself through college, and ended up at the Jeffersonian interning the year after I got my Ph.D. And you know the story from there." She finished, slumping down on the couch.

"You have to admit, Bones, it's kinda weird that when we were teenagers both of us were rescued by a 'grandfather'." Booth said his first words in over an hour.

"Yeah, you're right. That's why it was so easy for me to relate to your grandfather. He reminded me so much of my own, and made me miss him even more." Brennan admitted.

"It's okay to feel grief, Bones. Feeling emotions doesn't make you weak. It makes you human," Seeley said philosophically.

"I know, it's just whenever I open myself up to someone, they always end up taking advantage of me," she confessed.

"Everyone?" he asked, the daring question in his tender gaze.

"Not everyone," Temperance said, her eyes locking with his.

The two stared, unblinking, at each other for an immeasurable amount of time before Brennan looked away and shattered the moment. An awkward silence then ensued, during which Brennan encouraged her bad habit of biting her nails and Booth ran his fingers through his thick hair.

Seeley broke the tension by saying "It looks like we aren't as much of polar opposites as everyone thinks."

"Who thinks we are opposites? I don't." Brennan inquired truthfully.

"Sweets, Cam, Angela. Wait, you don't think so? But you see the world one way, the way of _science _and _rationality_. I rely on instinct and my gut, and believe in Jesus and God and divine intervention. How are we the same?"

"We both have the same drive to have criminals pay the price for what they did. That's why we work together. Wait, Sweets? You've talked to him about this?" Brennan asked incredulously.

"I got a copy of his manuscript for the book about us off his hard drive." Booth disclosed, a look on his face like a little boy caught in a lie.

"What did he say in it?" Temperance wondered aloud.

"I never opened it. Do you want to look at it with me?" Booth asked hopefully.

"Sure," she accepted, smiling. He pulled his phone out of his tight jean pocket, and with a few quick keystrokes, sent the file to her laptop. They sat down side by side, the computer resting on one leg of each of them, and they began to read. Bored of the "psychological mumbo-jumbo", Booth turned to the last page of the book.

_Dr. Brennan believes that love is an exchange of chemicals in the brain alerted by the subtle indicators of a good breeder. Agent Booth, on the other hand, sees love as transcendent and eternal, something you can lose yourself in. Regardless of their views, manifestations of this emotion are visible in certain ways. A touch lingering slightly longer than necessary, an entrancing stare that neither wants to break. Doing anything within their power to ensure the other's welfare. A willingness to sacrifice their own life for the other. The ability to kill anyone who endangers the other. _

_ All these things they have done without a thought, without a qualm, putting themselves in harm's way for their partner. And yet, neither of them believes the other shares their feelings. They surround each other in a dance, sometimes taking a step closer, then backing away. Neither makes a move that brings them close enough to make any real headway in the situation, and so they dance on. One day, these two will confront their feelings, and realizes that they are truly in love. _

Brennan, with her exceptionally quick mind, finished the passage first. She turned her blue eyes to Booth's profile, patiently waiting for the love of her life to complete it. A few moments later, he looked up and met her intense gaze. After a few seconds of silence, they both simultaneously began to speak. Booth said "What a bunch of crap," and Brennan said "Who is he kidding?" They exchanged at glance and laughed at the alleged unfeasibility of the conclusion of Sweets's story.

Secretly, both were shocked that the young professional had ascertained the true nature of their feelings before they had come to the realization themselves. After all, he had begun writing this book over a year ago. What astonished them even more was that he actually had the mettle to put it into words and publish it for the world to see, when they couldn't even admit it to each other without quantifiers.

Brennan and Booth sat in silence for an inordinate amount of time, neither knowing what to say to relieve the tension hanging in the air between them. Every time Booth glanced at Brennan, she turned her head away shyly in an unfamiliar gesture, at least for her. He realized the only way to terminate the cat and mouse game was to stare at her relentlessly until she succumbed to the urge to return the gaze.

Booth's chocolate brown eyes ran up and down her face, taking in each and every detail of the flawless planes of her face. Her high, accentuated cheekbones, which gave her an exotic air; the way her jaw jutted out, the curly piece of auburn hair that sat on the nape of her neck, brushing her porcelain skin; the way her eyes twinkled when she was confronted with a challenge. He could go on about her and her positive attributes for hours.

Brennan's extraordinary mental capabilities left her ridiculously bored in her pursuit of counting the numerous shades within the carpet fabric. Despite her efforts to keep her mind singularly focused, her thoughts kept wandering to the man next to her, and the ominous (and theoretical, of course) pachyderm in the room. She mentally reprimanded herself; never before had she been bothered by the tension between the two partners, but it had never been so obvious before. Yes, she had seen it, but she had condoned it, as she believed it petty and trivial, something she could shove to the back of her mind. Now it consumed each and every idle thought. How his brown eyes cherished her and appreciated her and loved her all in one glance. The way the blinding smile of his could leave her so spellbound.

Sighing resignedly at her loss, she lifted her blue eyes from the carpet and their eyes met. The electricity behind the gaze was building steadily; soon one would break. It was Booth who surrendered first. "Bones, I made a huge mistake," he said shamefully, his posture giving him away. A look of puzzlement ornamented her face, her brow furrowing and her eyes widened. He elaborated, "When Epps almost killed Cam, I told you that there was a line." Her mouth dropped open a little- they never talked about that, she had actually thought that he had forgotten about it entirely. Little did she know he regretted uttering those words each and every day. As he opened his mouth to speak again, her eagerly ready to listen to whatever it was he could summon up the courage to say, a sudden sound interrupted them. The sound of rapping knuckles on the wooden door of her apartment was clear to the two sitting there, and they jumped back quickly, the stimulus making them realize their extreme proximity to each other.

Both were disconcerted at this sudden arrival, knowing that late visits like this were out of the norm for most people. Despite her trepidation that this mysterious visitor might be a threat, Brennan arose quickly, smoothing down her rumpled outfit, and spanned the short distance to the door in record time. Brennan stared through the peephole, and saw a pretty young woman on the other side of the glass. She figured that this innocent-looking woman posed no danger to her, and besides, if anything did happen, she had the best backup possible- Booth.


	5. Surprise!

The door opened, and she could hardly keep the shock off her face. Yes, she had seen Tempe's picture in her book, but that was a whole different thing than seeing in her in person. She had changed, and somehow she hadn't. The girl could tell that Tempe was seizing her up, making judgments based upon her appearance. Tempe was totally shocked- the girl looked like a wreck. Black mascara bled down her cheeks, and her green eyes were red and puffy. Her black curls were lank and pulled back in a messy ponytail, and the baggy clothes she was wearing dwarfed her petite frame.

"I know you…" Tempe muttered under her breath, her intent not being upon a response.

"Yes, you do," her voice rang out, as clear as a bell and as melodious as one too. It sounded so alien to her after weeks and weeks of silence.

"The facial structure is congruent, but it just can't be. It can't," Tempe said disbelievingly, shaking her head back and forth slightly to reiterate her point. She could see that Tempe had figured out who she was.

"Yeah, Tempe, it's me, Katie," Katarina said in an almost condescendingly mocking tone. That wasn't her intention, but it slipped out.

"Oh my God, Katie, is it really you? How did you find me? Why are you here after all this time? How are you?" Tempe fired off questions in rapid succession, her excitement escalating as she spoke. Katarina also could sense an almost maternal hint in her voice- the age difference between them had been so much more pronounced when she was 4 and Tempe was 15. Now, they were just two adults, with a broken past as their common ground.

"I think only one answer is really relevant right now, Tempe. Why I'm here. My father…my biological father…he's missing. I looked him up, and a few of his friends in the neighborhood said he had disappeared a few days before, and no one knew why. I never had any desire to seek him out before, but now I think I might like to see him," Katarina said completely devoid of emotion, just as she had rehearsed. She could Tempe holding back a smile at the reason for that- she had certainly implemented the method of compartmentalization Tempe had taught her. However, it was clearly not as effective for her, indicated by the signs of crying that she just couldn't seem to erase. Katarina felt as if her permanently fluctuating emotions were under control- for now.

"Yo…your father? I thought he left your mother when she got pregnant with you?" Tempe said, her memory obviously fuzzy on the precise details- it's not like Julia had ever talked about him, other than once to mention the reason for his absence.

"Yes, my father. I tracked him down; I just wanted to meet him. I wanted to meet the man who abandoned my mother and I and following my mother's incapacitation, his not being there landed me in the foster system. It's not like I have to explain that to you, Tempe. You know what it's like." Katarina said, feeling some of her carefully constructed barriers coming down with each word.

"Of course I do, Katie. How did you find me?" Tempe said, clearly trying to refrain from treating her like the child she remembered her as, and like the young woman she had grown up to be.

"You're a world famous author now, Tempe- not exactly hard to find. You wouldn't believe how many paparazzi photos there are of you, and a mystery man, who always seems to be with you. You wouldn't believe the things the press is coming up with," Katarina said coyly. She couldn't resist smiling after her cheeks became flushed. She turned around, likely looking for evidence of the "mystery man". There had to be something, a photograph, a male article of clothing, something. The thin girl jumped when she saw a male- shaped blob on the couch.

Up until that point, he had been shrouded in the shadows, and completely silent. He was totally unnoticeable unless someone was staring straight at him.

"Who are you?" she shrieked, mentally admonishing herself for not noticing another presence earlier.

"FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth, Bones' partner," he rose from the couch and extended his right arm, introducing himself politely.

"You're Andy Lister," Katarina said confidently. The attractive FBI agent in her novels, who always comes in and saves the day. Lately, Kathy and Andy's relationship had taken a new turn.

"Well, _I_ think so, but Bones here won't admit it," he said, a "charm" smile appearing on his face.

"Bones?" she inquired, befuddled by this odd nickname, though it seemed more of a pet name to her.

"If you saw her book, you've got to know what she does for a living. So, Bones," Booth explained, a small, albeit genuine smile on his face now.

"That's the real reason I'm here, Tempe. What I need from you is for you, your team, and your adorable FBI agent here to find my father." Katarina said, turning her attention back to Brennan, who was observing attentively to the atmosphere between her partner and Katarina with a watchful eye.

"Can you bring me to the crime scene? Oops, I mean where everyone saw him last" Brennan altered her statement at a blazing glare from Booth.

"It's in Chicago. He lived in the same city as me for twenty years, and I never thought to look for him there," she said sadly.

"It looks like we're taking a road trip, Bones" Booth teased, trying to loosen up the environment.

"What am I going to tell Cam?" Tempe asked, looking at Booth for guidance.

"I'll take care of that, Bones, and I'll call in a Missing Persons report. You didn't do that yet, did you?"

At the shake of her head, he continued, "You just pack and get ready. Katarina, help yourself to anything you'd like in the fridge or cupboard."

"Hey, this is my house. Don't tell her what she can and can't do! Katie, you can have something if you want, though." Brennan snipped.

Katarina couldn't keep the smile off her face after watching this exchange. These two were so blind to what was right in front of them. The only way she had survived the foster system was being able to read people's motives in a single glance, and she could see the love emanated from both of them during each and every word spoken, every glance exchanged. The twinkle in Booth's eye (which is scientifically proven to indicate sexual attraction) when he spoke to or about Tempe, the almost puppy-like adoration in her eyes when she thought he wasn't looking. And most of all the mutual respect between them- respect, in her opinion, is the most crucial element to a successful relationship.

Sensing the need for privacy between the two, she excused herself to the kitchen to grab a beer from the refrigerator. Katarina let out a contended sigh as the golden liquid cascaded down her throat, the alcohol leaving in its wake a slight stinging sensation. Beer was always her drink of choice-wine had too many connotations of romance, vodka was a little too potent for her taste, bourbon and whiskey made her feel like an old man drinking alone, and martinis and all those fruity drinks were just too girly.

Despite the hardships she had endured over the course of her life, she was still a romantic at heart. Tempe and Booth just emitted this aura that made you get a warm fuzzy feeling, and she was happy that Tempe was happy. Katarina could tell, though, that things weren't quite sewed up yet between the two lovebirds, who clearly refused to admit their affection. She was sure; however, that it was only a matter of time before these two saw what was right in front of them. If only she could have her own fairytale ending, she mused.

Her ears perked up at the almost silent footsteps approaching the kitchen. If she hadn't been so perpetually wary of her surroundings, she wouldn't have even heard them coming, and that was quite a feat for the walker. In stepped Agent Booth, who in his hand held a black Razr, so outdated. He casually flipped it shut, saying "Thanks, Cam, for understanding. I owe you one."

He came up right next to her, almost to the point of invading her personal space. She wasn't surprised- she had seen this confrontation coming a mile away- he was definitely what Tempe would have called an "alpha-male" back in the day. The white knight type who would do everything to protect his princess. Tempe must not appreciate that- she hates chauvinism and the subjugation of women, etc., etc. He placed a hand on the Formica countertop and set the other on his hip. An aggressive and threatening position to say the least, but she wasn't intimidated in the slightest.

"How did you walk in so quietly? I barely heard you, and I have experience in these matters." Kat had to admit, she was dying to know.

"Army Ranger Sniper- it's part of the training," he disclosed. It didn't shock her much; Booth certainly seemed like an honorable man.

"Impressive- Sniper to FBI Agent? You certainly love your country." she said.

"That I do. America is the best country in the world. I would do anything for it- I have," he said patriotically.

"And speaking of my country, and laws, are you even legal?" he questioned, gesturing to the beer bottle.

"I'm twenty-six- don't get your panties in a bunch," she said, obviously having fun toying with him.

"You better not hurt her. She's been through so much, and came out on the other side the most wonderful woman I've ever known. I don't want to see her hurt," he said, turning the conversation to serious matters.

"I have no intention of doing so. I just need her help, and consequently yours. I don't want there to be any hard feelings between us, for one reason or another," she said honestly, somewhat uncomfortable at speaking her true feelings- she had been keeping secrets for as long as her memory stretched.  
"Okay," he said, but she could still see that he didn't believe that her motives were pure, and she was fine with that. Kat was accustomed to not being trusted- in fact, nearly everyone she had encountered retained some skepticism towards her.

"Then that's that, right, Katie. You don't mind if I call you Katie, right?" He asked her.

"No one has called me Katie since my mother- I'm usually just Kat, but if you want to you can," she said, feeling the moisture accumulate in her eyes as she reminisced about her mother, whose fate was unknown, and in truth, she had no desire to know. Closure with her had come the day Kat entered the foster system- the blame of her predicament lay not with her, not with Tempe, but with the woman whose identity was still a mystery to her, who wrecked so many lives in retribution of the same being done to her own.

"I'll call you Kat," he said, easily recognizing the uncertainty in her voice and the distress on her face.

"That's fine," Kat said with a smile. She couldn't help but admire Booth's way at making each and every person he encountered feel unique, simply with a little thing like a special name or a special voice just for them.

"I don't know why you don't always go by Katarina- it's such a beautiful name. It means "pure", I think," Booth said, obviously trying to make easy conversation, and he was quite a natural at eradicating the tension in the situation, and that beaming smile of his didn't hurt either.

"Why don't you go by Seeley?" she retorted quickly, gauging that it was a sensitive topic of conversation for him. Kat found it quite ironic that a big tough guy with obvious skeletons in his closet would have a name that means "happiness".

He mumbled something incoherent, his dark eyes downcast. "What was that you said? I couldn't quite hear you," she continued to tease him, really starting to enjoy herself now.

"My mother…she was quite fond of whimsical names. Seeley's an old English name. I got the short end of the stick, though. My brother's name is Jared, perfectly normal. I've basically gone by Booth since I started grade school." He admitted.

"Doesn't it mean "very happy"? I think it fits you. You seem like a man very content with his lot in life." she disclosed a bit of her knowledge of etymology, particularly names, and some of her perspective into human character.

"Depends on what day of the week it is," he said with a smile, clearly deflecting from the actual question.

"Is today a happy day for little Seeley?" Kat asked in a mocking baby voice, trying to get under his thick skin.

She could see the ire mounting in his eyes, and was repelled by the frightening emotion, even in its infant stages. Booth was obviously a complex, many layered man and the amicable nature he displayed to the world was only a small facet of his personality, and not one that revealed even a glimpse at his true character. Nearly anyone has the ability to put on a smile and some charm to hoodwink everyone, especially those who know and love them. The number shrinks considerably when you factor in those who can keep up this façade effectively, however.

He interrupted her psychoanalysis with a sudden, aggressive move towards her, his large, calloused hands on either side of the petite girl, rendering her unable to escape. He leaned in so that her pointed nose was only inches from his. In any other instance, she would have catalogued this as a sexual advance, but she knew that his heart and wiles belonged to another. On the other hand, his physicality was his main intimidation technique, and most would falter before his steady gaze, his brown eyes that shone like that of a lion when his lioness was under threat, always ready to rip the adversary to pieces.

"Don't mess with me," he said simply, his voice taking on a husky undertone. "I have a gun, and you really, really piss me off. I know you're important to Bones, which is why I haven't said or done anything before now. Back off."

"Okay, big guy," Kat said, her arms bent at the elbows, conveying surrender. He retreated slightly, instead leaning against the counter at a comfortable distance from me. "Truce?" she asked, extending her chipped pink nails.

"Truce," he confirmed, linking his hand with hers, his dwarfing it. Just as he began to open his mouth again, by the look on his face seemingly to apologize, Tempe walked into the room, lugging a large suitcase behind her.

At this, Booth and Kat burst into laughter simultaneously. His was a rumbling baritone sound; hers a shrill, piercing soprano. As usual, Tempe looked confused. "What?" she pondered, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"You…you're taking…all…of that…for a few days…in Chicago?" Booth asked her between guffaws.

"It's better to be over prepared than under prepared. And who knows how long we're going to be there?" Tempe said innocently.

Her giggles were subsiding, but her lips remained parted in a small smile. "I have all of my worldly possessions in the car, so are you guys ready to go?" Kat asked the pair. Tempe nodded, her needs obviously provided for by the giant suitcase. Booth, on the other hand, shook his head- she had totally forgotten about him. Kat guessed their departure would be further delayed, since they had to stop at Booth's place now, too.

"No, Booth, I packed for you too." Brennan asserted. They lived together? Wow, she had totally misread those signs, and that was a truly rare occurrence for her. Seeing the bewildered look on Booth's face, and hers also, she decided to explain herself.

"When he comes late at night and we have a few drinks, I usually decide that his driving home would not be advisable, and so he usually sleeps in my guest room. He abhors sleeping in a suit, and I don't blame him; they're really uncomfortable, and so he decided to keep a few of his FBI t-shirts and sweatpants here, and it accumulated after a while, and now I have quite a few outfits of his," she rambled, a rose blush coming to her cheeks. He nodded his assent a few times, not ostensibly discomfited in the slightest, and Kat found that an odd role reversal of the usual emotional standards of the two.

"So that's why the suitcase is so big," she said playfully, trying to restore the light dynamic to the tense room. Booth, understanding my objective, began to chuckle softly, and Tempe followed suit.

Booth sprang to his feet quickly, his brain coming to the realization that yes, they could leave now. Kat followed him, his pounding, strong footsteps displaying his masculinity, Tempe's quick, purposeful heel clicks following behind him. Kat brought up the rear, her steps more lithe and cat-like, and her sensible black flats dancing silently upon the floor.

They descended the stairs in complete silence, Booth having commandeered the suitcase, she frequently glimpsed Tempe trying to stifle a yawn. She looked at her watch- 11 P.M. It didn't bother Kat- she was entirely accustomed to running on two to three hours of sleep. In fact, she had been up for about 48 hours straight to get here- around thirteen to reach DC in the first place, and another two spent getting lost. The girl was running on pure adrenaline, and coffee, at this point. The real reason for her insomnia was that she was afraid to go to sleep, afraid of what dreams her subconscious might come up with. Kat had been through so much in her life, and this…this wanting and not being able to see her father… was just the tip of the iceberg- the thing that might send her over the precipice on which she had been balancing for so long. Conversely, it might be the one thing that saved her.

They reached the parking structure where her car was, and she was sure that Booth's was too. He was heading toward the resident parking, and then she saw what must be his ride- a giant navy blue SUV- a Toyota Sequoia. It had government agency written all over it, and would definitely not blend in in the Windy City. Grabbing his arm, Kat veered him towards the "Visitor" parking, where he _should_ be. Tempe followed, blinking rapidly and repeatedly, attempting to keep herself from lapsing into the peaceful world of sleep.

Booth had his puppy dog begging face on as he spotted her car with its by its blinking lights- definitely what would be classified as a "chick car"- a hot pink convertible, a VW Bug. He started arguing, "No, I refuse to ride in that thing. I don't even think I'll fit." But his protests fell on deaf ears, and he shuffled along dejectedly, the heavily laden suitcase thrown casually over his shoulder like it was a feather. Tempe was at his side, speaking quietly to him. Kat couldn't make out what they were saying, but a small laugh erupted from her lips and they exchanged a look that seemed to convey all the things they couldn't put to words. Kat reached into her jean pocket and extracted her key ring, grabbing the princess key in her hand. She popped the trunk and unlocked the car.


End file.
